


Silver Lining

by supersleepygoat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, EXPLICIT SELF HARM, F/M, Gen, Mild Smut, Oral Sex, Self-Doubt, Self-Harm, insecure reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 08:24:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16971132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersleepygoat/pseuds/supersleepygoat
Summary: You are in an established relationship with Dean. You have hid your self-harm scars from him but your inability to be open with him puts a stain on your relationship.





	Silver Lining

**Author's Note:**

> Please Heed the Warnings! If issues around self-harm are triggering please do not read! The Reader will have a tendency to romanticize the act of self-harm.

You and Dean are sitting on the couch together. Your head is resting on his shoulder as you struggle to keep your eyes open. His arm is wrapped around you as he absentmindedly plays with the ends of your hair. The sensation is just delicate enough to lull you to sleep but you can’t let that happen. 

 

Sam went to bed hours ago but you and Dean have a bet going to see who can stay up the latest. The hunting world has been quiet. Which means, both you and Dean have been going a little stir crazy cooped up in the bunker. You have been challenging each other with stupid bets and pulling childish pranks to pass the time. Tonight is no different.

You have lost every bet so far. The cocky smirk that spreads across Dean’s face when he inevitably wins is getting on your last nerve. He gains a look of pure self-satisfaction when he gets to pick your punishment. But, you vowed that it would not happen tonight. 

You’ve always been a night owl, so you thought you had this in the bag. Unfortunately, Netflix was buffering. So, you are stuck watching some bad show on late night cable. To make it worse, there seems to be a never-ending stream of commercials. 

Another round of commercials comes on and you groan in frustration. Having to sit through commercials has always been your kryptonite. Your eyes are getting heavy but the teasing laugh Dean sends your way tells you that he’s not even close to cracking. 

Dean starts stroking your arm and whispering in your ear. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You can go to sleep. I promise I won’t hold it against you,” he coos with feigned softness. 

Luckily, Dean doesn’t realize his fatal mistake. If he wanted to win, he should have left you alone. His low voice rejuvenates your purpose. His soft caresses and reverberating tone sets your skin on fire. It makes you hungry for something other than sleep. 

Your new-found revival gives you an idea. There is only one thing that tires out the great Dean Winchester. 

His hot breath against your ear and the soft pads of his fingers tracing your skin is kindling a fire within you. You decide to play dirty. He always resorts to cheap tricks and lusty distractions to win the bets. Two can play at that game. 

Dean realizes his mistake too late. You lift your head to look him in the eyes and he sees your sleepy haze transform into a quest for mischief. 

You slide off the couch and settle between his spread legs. You have never been so thankful for manspreading, as it now gives you easy access. You pull on the elastic waistband of his pajama pants. He knows the game you’re playing but makes no move to stop you. He is more than willing to risk losing if it means you’ll keep doing what you’re doing. 

You know he is reading your tactics like a book. But once he is fully released and exposed for you, you both soon forget about your wager. 

“If you forfeit now, I can go easy on you when deciding your punishment,” you offer Dean as your hand works him to full mast. 

“Bribery isn’t going to work on me, sweetheart. You’re going to have to earn your win,” Dean responds before throwing his head back in pleasure. 

A wicked smirk spreads across your face as you accept his challenge. You lean forward and run your tongue along the underside of his length. The teasing sensation causes Dean’s dick to twitch for attention. But, you don’t give it what it wants. You tug Dean’s pants off all the way and spread your fingers over his thighs. You place kitten kisses everywhere but the reddening shaft. You tease him until his tip is leaking for you, then you move in. 

You sink your lips over him and your rhythm quickens as his moans get louder. His hands find their way into your hair and they pull you off of him with a wet popping noise. You look up at him as you wipe your mouth of any escaping saliva. 

He doesn’t speak. He just leans forward and pulls you off of the ground and down onto his lap. He starts placing wet kisses to your jaw and neck as you grind your clothed core down onto him. Within seconds, his finger start prying at your pajama top. As he is distracted, you reach over to your left and turn off the lamp that is on the side table. Without pulling his lips off of you, Dean reaches over and turns the light back on. 

You open your eyes and grind down onto him harder before reaching over to turn the light back off. 

Dean groans with more annoyance than pleasure. He turns the light back on. But before you can turn it off again, he flips you on your back and pins you beneath him. 

“Want to see you,” he purrs at you while continuing to shower the exposed skin of your neck with adoration. He doesn’t understand why you always insist on complete darkness when you two make love. He always plays along because he wants you to be comfortable. But lately, it occurred to him he has never actually seen you naked. He’s felt you and touched every inch of you. But, he has never been able to fully see you. The few times you’d have sex in the light, you would always keep your top on or just pull your skirt up. You’ve never let yourself be exposed to him. 

He loves you and he is willing to accept any of your weird quirks. He assumes you keep yourself covered because you are insecure. Although, he doesn’t understand why someone as beautiful as you would ever be insecure. He needs you to know that he would never judge you. You have nothing to be scared about. He wants you to be comfortable with him, and he wants to help you take that step tonight.

A look of fear flashes through your eyes as Dean’s fingers start pulling up your top. You will be utterly exposed under the harsh scrutiny of the table lamp glow. Your breathing quickens but not out of lust. There is a panic bubbling inside of you that you can’t ignore. 

You’ve imagined his reaction a thousand times. You know Dean is no stranger to darkness. But, you always envision the worst when you visualize his reaction to seeing your scars for the first time. 

Disgust. 

Confusion.

Hurt. 

The last thing you would ever want is for him to think he can’t make you happy. He does. He is the  _ only thing _ that makes you happy. The scars you bear are all your own doing. 

Your shirt is creeping up your torso and you realize you can’t do it. You’re not ready. Now is not the right time. 

You push his hands away from you. “Wait,” you say as you break the kiss. “I can’t,” You squirm out from underneath him and slip off the couch. You straighten your shirt to make sure you are fully covered before turning around to face him again. “I’m sorry,” you say with regret before sprinting out of the room. 

Dean is left lying on the couch and asking himself what he did wrong. He can’t wrap his mind around why being with him in the light is such a deal breaker. The look of rejection in his eyes almost broke your resolve. You want to share yourself completely with him. But, some of the corners in your mind are too dark for even a Winchester to understand and accept. 

A stronger woman would have been honest. A stronger woman would not hide her scars that mark her self-hatred from the man she loves. But, you have never been strong. Cowardice runs in your family. You come from a long line of hunters who have perished by their own hand or their own self-destructive mistakes. You’re not like the Winchesters. You cannot swallow your darkness and channel it into something good. The only thing you are proficient at is pushing away your only source of light.

* * *

 

You spent the night in your own room. It was dusty and the sheets were stale with lack of use. You have barely even set foot in this room since you made things official with Dean a little over a year ago. But last night, you couldn’t bring yourself to climb into your shared bed alone. You didn’t want to wake up this morning and find out he never came to bed, that he didn’t want to see you. 

“So, who won?” Sam asks you as you stagger into the kitchen with tired feet. You didn’t sleep well last night, so walking requires more effort. 

“Dean didn’t tell you? Did he say anything to you about last night?” you ask with as neutral of a tone as possible.

“I haven’t seen him yet,” Sam states with a shrug.

“Oh… uh, well… we both lost,” you say honestly. 

Sam’s phone starts to ring. It saves you from having to explain what you meant. 

“Dean caught us a case,” Sam says as he hangs up the phone. 

“Where is he?” you ask with genuine curiosity. You assumed he was in his room. 

“Apparently, he went out last night. I thought you said he fell asleep and lost the bet?” Sam asks. You shrug to avoid further questioning. “Anyway, Jody called him this morning. Sioux Falls may have a new resident shifter on their hands,” Sam relays the conversation he had with Dean. 

“I’ll go pack,” you say as you push away from the table and go back to your room. 

Less than an hour later, you and Sam are waiting in the garage for Dean to get back. You await with your duffle bag in your hand and a worry tensing your brow. You don’t want to think about where Dean may have gone last night. The insecure part of your brain shouts louder than the rational portion. You cannot quell the thought that he went out to a bar to find another woman to pick up where you left off. You left him hard, worked up, and more than likely pissed off. You remind yourself that Dean has always been faithful. But there is a worry that is gnawing away at your insides. Maybe he realized you aren’t worth the trouble. Maybe he finally realized he can do better, he deserves better.

Dean soon comes peeling into the garage. 

“Dude, you’re late,” Sam says as he starts loading his things into Baby’s trunk. 

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Dean says as he gets out of the car. He looks up to see you fidgeting with the sleeves of your jacket. You’re hesitant to greet him. “What’s she doing here? I thought I told you we could handle this ourselves,” Dean says to Sam as if you’re not within earshot. 

“I thought you were joking,” Sam says with furrowed brows. In all the time he has known you two together, he has never seen you fight. 

Dean groans before looking back over at you. “You want to come?” his tone suggests that he is waiting for you to say no. 

You almost do say no. You never want to be where you’re not wanted. But, Jody needs your help. You won’t leave her high and dry simply because you’re having boyfriend troubles. You know that the Winchesters can handle almost anything on their own. But, it goes against your nature to ignore a friend’s call for help. 

You nod to Dean. You’re not quite able to use your words. 

His face is unreadable. You don’t see any disappointment or relief in his features when you give him your decision. “I’ll go get my stuff,” Dean says to anyone who is listening before walking out of the garage and toward his bedroom.

You pick up our bag and walk over to the back seat. “Don’t ask,” you say to Sam who is looking more than a little confused by your interaction with Dean. 

The car ride is tense. Luckily, Sam hasn’t told Dean to turn down the music that is breaking the pregnant silence. Even Sam prefers listening to the same Led Zeppelin tape three times in a row rather than watching the two people he loves most ignore each other. 

You pull into Jody’s driveway and make a beeline for her front door. You don’t bother knocking, you just unlock the door and walk in. Jody’s house was your home long before the bunker. You still have your key and she expects you to use it whenever you’re in town. 

You rush into the kitchen. You announce your presence so she doesn’t accidently shoot you thinking you are an intruder. Jody smiles widely at you and pulls you in for a bone crushing hug. She looks you over to make sure you look well fed and well taken care of. 

“I swear, if you don’t start visiting more often I will have to track you down and drag you back here by your flannel,” she says while pulling on your shirt. “I see you are fully embracing the Winchester look. I hope those boys are still a good influence on you otherwise. And, they’re keeping you out of trouble,” she raises an eyebrow up at you. 

You roll your eyes but before you can respond, Sam pipes up from the kitchen doorway. “Were you ever able to keep her out of trouble?” he asks the matriarch. 

“Fair enough,” Jody concedes before lunging forward to embrace the brothers.

* * *

 

After dinner, Jody catches you up on the case. It doesn’t sound like much of a case. An amateur shapeshifter at most. There isn’t much to go off of, only a few robberies where the perp’s eyes flare in the security footage. It’s thin but you’ll take any excuse to spend a couple days with the woman who is like a second mother to you. 

“So how do you track shifters if they can be anyone?” Jody asks knowing that whatever the answer is, it will probably be a tedious process. 

“Aside from testing everyone in town for a silver allergy, we more or less have to wait for the thing to show itself. Sammy and I will check the sewers around the latest victim’s house first thing tomorrow. That’s are best place to start,” Dean forms his game plan. Although, you can’t help but notice his plan doesn’t involve a part for you. 

You excuse yourself from the table and start taking the dirty dishes into the kitchen. You are starting to rinse them off when you feel Dean come up to stand behind you. 

“We’re going to head out, find a motel nearby the victim’s house so we can get an early start,” Dean informs you. 

“Okay, let me finish up here and I’ll be right out,” you move to start drying the dishes. 

“Actually,” Dean says with hesitation. You can see he is uncomfortable with what he’s about to say. “Maybe you should stay here, with Jody. You could go to work with her tomorrow and get more intel. So, it makes more sense if you just sleep here,” Dean suggests. 

You can see right through him and he knows it. This isn’t about what’s best for the case, it’s about what’s best for him. But, you agree nonetheless. 

You hear the Winchesters leave as you settle into your old room. Since you’ve been gone, Alex has been using it as a study area. So, there are thick books that cover what used to be a vanity but now operates as a desk. 

“So,” Jody says as she stands in your doorway. You audibly groan because you know exactly what that tone in her voice implies. You’re never able to hide anything from her, well almost anything. 

“We just had a little disagreement last night, no big deal. We both just need time to cool off,” you answer her question before she even asks it. 

“Since when do you two fight?” she asks with the same disbelief Sam had in eyes earlier in the day. 

“Since last night,” you reply with shortness. Being in your old room again makes you slip back into the role of a bratty and unresponsive teenager. It is a role you thought you outgrew years ago. 

“Well, you know I’m here if you need to talk.”

“Jody,” you stop her before she can leave your room. “Thank you.”

Her warm smile puts you at ease, if only for a moment. Then, she is gone. You are left alone thinking about how your own fears may have cost you your relationship with the man you love. 

You go to the washroom to get changed for bed. You catch your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes are drawn to the marks that litter your lower stomach and upper thighs. Some are deeper than others and some are fresher than others. But they all tell the same story, the story of your weakness, your pain, and your self-rejection. 

Tears well in your eyes as you take in your appearance. You hate what you’ve done to yourself, what you keep doing to yourself. You also hate that it is the only thing that gives you relief. The pain that stems from breaking your own skin clears your mind. For a few seconds, your hateful thoughts quiet. Your feelings of inadequacy dim into the background of your mind. For a few seconds, you get to focus on a different kind of pain. But then, you pull the knife away and your thoughts return. 

You know in hindsight it doesn’t help or actually make things better. But you can’t stop yourself from doing it again and again. Those few seconds of relief in which you are released from your own mind, make it worth it. 

You usually never look at yourself like this. You never change in front of a mirror because you know it only makes it worse to see the evidence of your darkness. If you can’t even stand to look at yourself, how can you expect Dean to? How could he ever think you’re sexy? 

You imagine him looking at you with the same disgust with which you look at yourself. Before you know it, you have reached into the side pocket of your duffle bag and fished out your knife. It is the special blade you keep for your own use. It was your mother’s silver-plated pocket knife she used to end her own life. Now, you keep her legacy of dejection alive by using the same knife to perpetuate your cycle of hurt. 

You’ve grown accustomed to the amount of pressure needed to break your skin. You don’t know when it happened, but you have gained a certain level of proficiency. It’s almost second nature. 

You clean your knife and wipe up the rivulets of blood that are dripping down your thighs. You look back up at your reflection but feel no different. 

You go back to your room and nearly jump out of your skin. You find Dean sitting on the foot of your bed, waiting for you. He doesn’t look up when enter.

“I thought you already left,” you say as you pull your sleep shorts further down your thighs. 

“I did. But I – I had to come back,” he still won’t look at you. 

You don’t speak because you don’t know what to say. You don’t know why he’s here. You try to steady your quickening breaths. Whatever he is going to say, you have to take it. You brought it on yourself. If you can’t let yourself be open with him, you have to accept the consequences. But, you don’t want to break the silence yet. The longer he doesn’t speak, the longer you can hold out hope.

“Are you not comfortable being with me?” he asks finally taking his eyes off the ground. 

You can’t help but let out a sad laugh. Would anyone be comfortable next to Dean Winchester? Even without your scars, this man is so far out of your league. You regularly have to pinch yourself to believe that he actually chose you. But apparently, that laugh wasn’t the answer he was looking for. 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N. I thought we were over this,” he says as he gets up off the bed. He strides over to you and opens his mouth to speak. But no words come out. His gaze has drifted down your body. There is not the usual hunger in his eyes, there is only worry. “What the hell is that? Are you hurt?” 

You look down and notice there are growing red stains at the bottom of your light grey t-shirt. He reaches out for you but you cover your midriff with your forearms. “It’s nothing,” you reassure him. 

But, he doesn’t take your word for it. You try and turn away but he holds you to keep you still. He looks back up into your eyes and sees them watering over. You want to plead with him to leave it alone but you can’t find the words. You hope that the desperation in your eyes is enough. 

Dean’s stomach drops when he sees the fear in your eyes. What are you afraid of? Are you afraid of him? Did someone do this to you? But, there is no one else around. It doesn’t even cross his mind that you may have done this to yourself. 

He holds your gaze and gently pulls your arms away from your stomach. You’re hesitant, but don’t put up much of a fight otherwise. 

“Please… Don’t,” you plead with him one last time before his fingers find the hem of your shirt. Your body is screaming at you to push him away or run but you are frozen in place. 

His fingers peel your shirt up just over your belly button. He swallows thickly in a vain attempt to hide the horror that is no doubt creeping on his features. These are not the types of scars you get from monsters or demons. They are purposeful.

How has he never seen these before? How has he never noticed? How could he have let this go on for so long? He knows that some of the scars look years old. But, some are more recent. 

He reaches the pads of his fingers out to touch the angriest looking one. It is red and inflamed. It’s still bleeding. His heart breaks a little more the closer he gets to it. 

You pull away from him and curl into yourself before he can make contact. You pull your shirt down and bury your face into your hands. Dean wraps an arm around you before you can crumble to the floor. He pulls you into his side and walks you over to sit on the edge of the bed. 

He doesn’t know what to do now. He doesn’t know what to say. He just thought you were self-conscious about being naked. He didn’t know you were hiding a different kind of vulnerability. 

His first instinct was to get angry. He vowed he would never let anyone hurt you, he just never thought he would have to protect you from yourself. He doesn’t understand why you would do this. But, he pushed that instinct away for now. That is not what you need. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Dean says with pure desolation in his voice. His words pull you out of the shelter you have made for yourself. You are utterly confused. What does he have to be sorry about? He’s not the fuck up. You are. “I should have known you were dealing with…” he trails off because he isn’t quite ready to say it out loud. “I’m sorry that I added to your- “

You cut him off before he can even finish that thought. “No!” you cup his cheek to get him to listen to you. “This is not on you, any of it. Please, never think I… nothing you did caused me to do this. I came to you broken. The damage was already done. Do not put this on your shoulders. I’m so sorry,” you push away from him but he pulls you back by his side. 

“Was this because we were fighting?” he says as his eyes drift down to the growing redness on your shirt. 

“No! no, I was just…” the truth is you don’t even need a reason anymore. You just do it. But you don’t know how to tell him that. 

“Can I see?” he asks in a soft tone as not to startle you from your thoughts. 

You shake your head. 

“Y/N, let me see. I can help you. I want to help you.”

“You can’t help me. You shouldn’t have to help me.”

He only stares at you. You know you can’t get out of this. You think once he sees you in all your broken glory, he won’t want you anymore. You wanted to put that off for as long as possible. But, Dean Winchester is stubborn and used to getting what he wants. 

You hook your fingers into your shirt and pull it off your head. Dean bites back his tears as he takes in what you’ve done to yourself. But, you’re not finished. You get up and stand in front of him. You pull down your sleep shorts so you are left only in your bra and underwear. He sees that the scars trail down your lower hips and over the tops of your thighs. 

He instinctively reaches out for you again but this time you don’t pull away. There is no point in hiding any more. He has now seen your darkest shame and there is no going back. The damage is done. 

He trails his fingers over your skin and to him you feel like a different person. Not all your scars are raised so when he would feel you in the dark he could never have known the truth on your skin. He rests his forehead against your lower stomach. Why didn’t he pay more attention? 

The sound of you sniffing brings him back into awareness. Your eyes are buried in the crook of your elbow. He stands up and leaves a lingering kiss on your forehead before guiding you back onto the bed. He leaves the room. After a minute of being gone, a fear settles within you. Even once he returns with a first aid kit, that fear doesn’t go away. 

He gets you to lie back as he starts cleaning your new wounds. You tell him you’re fine but you both know it’s a lie. Once he’s satisfied with his work, he forces you up the bed to rest your head against the pillows. 

He stands over you. “Where is it?” he asks in a firm yet gentle voice. 

“Where’s what?” you’re not being difficult, you genuinely don’t know what he’s talking about. 

“The knife you use. All your cuts are the same width and look like they were made with the same blade. Where is it?”

You bury your head into your pillows but point over to your duffle bag. 

He riffles through it and finds the dreaded weapon. He puts it into his back pocket. “Now, if you ever feel like you need to use it, you have to go through me first,” he informs you. “If you ever get to that point again, you have to come talk to me,” he continues. 

You look up at him with confusion. “You mean you’re still going to keep me around? Even though… now that you know how broken I am? I can’t promise you that I will stop,” you tell him the truth. It is almost as if you want him to walk away. He doesn’t deserve this. If you are completely honest with him, then he will see you’re not worth his time. You don’t deserve him. “I can’t promise I’ll get better any time soon.”

“But I can promise you that I will be here for you, through it all. I can promise you that your darkness doesn’t scare me. We can get through this, together.” He speaks as though it is a simple fact. 

“You don’t have to stick around out of pity. You don’t have to be scared that if you leave I’ll do something worse to myself. I’m not your responsibility.”

Dean crawls into the bed beside you and holds you tight. “You are my responsibly. But it’s not out of pity or guilt, or whatever else your overactive little mind is trying to come up with,” he holds you a little tighter. “You’re my responsibility because we all have a responsibility to the ones we love. It is our responsibility to make sure they don’t drown in their own darkness. It is my responsibility to pull you into the light. I’m not saying it will be easy or quick. But it will happen, one day.”

The night is long but he holds you through it all. It isn’t until morning breaks do you realize you spent the entire night with the light on. You never moved to find a t-shirt or felt the need to cover yourself with a blanket. Not only did Dean keep you warm enough, but he also never made you feel as though you should hide. You bore your scars with less shame than usual. 

If Dean believes you can get through this and he isn’t disgusted or ashamed of your pain, then neither should you be. Maybe these scars don’t have to be a reminder of your constant pain. But instead, a reminder of the pain you were able to overcome.

  
  



End file.
